Chapter Thirteen
Crossing his legs, Julius bobbed the toe of his boot up and down. Liverpool had said to meet him at nine in the evening, but apparently only Julius was expected to be punctual. The dark wood paneling of White’s back room made the chamber feel smaller. Oppressive.
Loosening the knot of his cravat, Julius breathed deeply through his nose. Amanda had borne her time out on the streets of London a week ago with admirable fortitude. If she could face her fears so well, he could damn well sit in a small room without breaking into a sweat. Even if the room was windowless. With only one door.
He was fine.
He gripped the armrests of his wingback chair. It had been three years since his return from the East. Would he ever feel natural again?
Liverpool stalked through the door, shutting it with greater energy than necessary. Taking the seat across from Julius, the older statesman crooked his elbow on the armrest and rested his jaw on his knuckles.
The look he sent Julius did nothing to calm his restless nerves.
“I missed my tea because of you.” Liverpool plucked a cigar from the silver box on the side table. Not bothering with a knife, he bit off the end and spit it out and dragged a candlestick towards him to light it.
Julius waited until the man was pulling at the flame. “You set the time for our meeting. Though I must say your tea time is extraordinarily late.”
Liverpool set the candlestick down on the side table next to his chair. “Cute. But that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Leaning back in the chair, Liverpool puffed on the cigar and glared at him through the smoke. “I’ve had a steady stream of peers in my office, gossiping like little old ladies about the debate raging in The Times over capital punishment.”
“I’ve had a few of those discussions myself.” After Amanda’s piece had received the most replies in the paper’s history, the editor had requested that Mr. A. Wilson pen another piece. He’d also invited a response from the opposing side. “I hardly understand how I’m responsible for the tumult.”
“Don’t play the innocent with me,” Liverpool said. “I know you delivered the piece by Mr. Wilson.”
Of course, he did. Liverpool had informants everywhere. “I’m not the author.”
“I never said you were. You don’t strike me as a reformer.” He coughed and rested the cigar in the ashtray. “But your ward is causing quite the fuss. Perhaps you should put an end to that.”
Julius didn’t know which claim was more absurd. That Amanda was his ward, or that he had the power to stop her from doing as she wanted. “Miss Wilcox is nobody’s ward. She is an unmarried woman who has attained the age of majority. She will do as she wishes.” Standing, he strode to the sideboard and poured two fingers of Scotch. “And don’t mistake my lack of agitation as a lack of interest in reform. You do know how I voted on the last bill.”
“And I respect that vote. But Parliament is the proper place to have the debate. Not in the public papers. And not in my office!” His stern expression softened the slightest bit when Julius put a second tumbler of liquor in his hand. “I hear the chit is a virtual recluse. Don’t pretend you couldn’t stop her nonsense if you wanted.”
Gritting his teeth, Julius turned his back on Liverpool and tramped back to his chair. Slowly, he sank down. Liverpool didn’t know the situation with Amanda. That any nonsense on her part was to be encouraged or risk her withdrawing from life even more than she had. But Liverpool’s duty was to protect the empire, at all costs. Individual hardships were of little importance.
“I had an especially galling conversation with Lord Hanford.” Liverpool tossed back his Scotch. “The man seemed to take Mr. Wilson’s piece as a personal insult. He read me the response he’d written for the paper, word for stumbling word.” Running a hand through his greying hair, he huffed out a breath. “Hanford’s always been an idiot. Well meaning, but as simple as broth. When I mentioned the true identity of Mr. Wilson, I had to spoon feed him the idea to use that in his response to discredit her.”
“You told Hanford that Amanda was the author of the opinion piece?” Heat flushed through Julius’s body. If she saw her name in print, read the ridicule and contempt that was sure to come her way, it would strike a blow. A hide-in-the-armoire type of blow that Julius couldn’t allow. “She used a pseudonym for a reason.”
“And I revealed it for a reason.” Minutely shaking his head, Liverpool sighed. “As she can no longer write anonymously, I hope she will stop writing entirely. I will be most unhappy if Lord Hanford finds a reason to come to my office again.”
Julius crossed one leg over the other and kept his face calm. He’d have to warn Amanda. Perhaps hide the papers until the scandal blew over. “Well, then, this should make you especially unhappy. Lord Hanford has become the focus of my investigation into the blackmail ring.”
Liverpool blinked. “Explain that.”
“I have a witness who has identified his carriage as one used by Madame Sable’s accomplice.” He spared a brief thought as to where The Black Rose’s proprietress was now. Liverpool most likely had her secured in a nice set of rooms until the investigation was over. She’d need to be close by for easy access if more questions arose. Although, aside from giving up Mrs. Westmont, Madame Sable claimed to not know the names of any other accomplices. Her information was turning out to be less than useful.
“You can’t think—”
“I know her accomplice isn’t Hanford himself.” Resting his glass on his thigh, Julius cocked his head. “His son?”
“That boy is as bumbling as his father. And about as tall. He doesn’t match your description.”
“A nephew, perhaps? My witness was most certain.” Certain, and biased. He didn’t think Amanda would intentionally lie about the coat of arms, but if she were already predisposed not to like Lord Hanford, who knew what her heart would see. After months of solitary confinement, Julius knew the mind could be as deceitful as a Haymarket guttersnipe.
Liverpool slouched. “As stupid as Lord Hanford is, he’d make the perfect pawn. He could be holding meetings for the inner circle of the crime ring in his library without even knowing it.” He pointed a finger at Julius and glared at him beneath his bushy brows. “And that’s all the more reason to keep your girl out of the papers. If Hanford is a pawn, the crime ring will become nervous if he’s made the center of attention. No, in order to keep your investigation running smoothly, this debate over the reform bill needs to be shelved. Understand?”
Julius’s stomach dropped. “And how do you suggest I stop it?”
“Confiscate her mail. Tell the chit the paper doesn’t want to publish her anymore. Not with her identity revealed.” Liverpool narrowed his eyes. “Lie. That is what I’ve hired you for.”
“Last time I checked, I volunteered.” Julius gripped his tumbler. “You don’t pay me or my friends anything. We do it out of duty. And we can stop anytime we like.”
“The government might not pay you in pounds, but don’t deny the certain favors you lot have received.” Liverpool sat forward. “Most recently, a girl was pardoned after stabbing her father to death.”
“After the Crown had denied her rights to a fair trial, she deserved that pardon!” Julius exploded from his chair. “Do not threaten her.”
Leaning back, Liverpool laced his fingers together and rested his palms against his round stomach. “Interesting.” His gaze was inscrutable. “A pardon can’t be taken back. She’s safe.” He paused for a moment. “Are you?”
“I’m fine.” Julius paced the small room, needing this meeting to be over. The walls loomed closer than ever. He jerked on his cravat.
“Are you certain?” Liverpool cocked his head, his eyes not missing anything. “I can have Sutton take point on this investigation. If you need to escape London for a bit, we’ll manage. You can take the girl with you.”
As if distance from London would bank Amanda’s fire for justice. Liverpool might have his finger in every pie, know what every citizen was up to, but he didn’t understand the female mind.
Julius gripped the back of the chair and looked the man in the eye. “As I said, I’m fine. And Sutton is busy trying to keep The Black Rose operational. He’s placed a supposed friend of Madame Sable’s in there as manager to try to divert suspicion.”
Liverpool snorted. “That’s not likely. I’m certain whoever is in charge of the blackmailing ring already knows she’s been picked up. The group is too canny to believe her letter expressing a sudden desire for travel.” Picking up his cigar, he tapped off the ash and stuck it between his lips, sucking hard. “I wonder if they’ll try to influence the new manager.”
“We can only wait and see.” Julius gathered his coat. “In the meantime, I’ve put people on Lord Hanford, see if any of his associates meet the description of Madame Sable’s associate. And I’ll try to find out if he’s been withdrawing large sums recently. He could be a victim, too.”
“Thankfully the man isn’t on any private committees in Parliament. He doesn’t have much more knowledge than the general public on matters of state.” He blew out a long stream of smoke. “Keep his involvement in this as quiet as possible. And let’s keep him out of the papers, too. Which means—”
“No more letters to the editor baiting him.” Shrugging into his coat, Julius set his mouth in a grim line. That was much easier said than done. Amanda’s fight over reform was the only thing to bring a spark back into her eye. That and their nightly romps. But he couldn’t keep her tied to his bed permanently. No matter how appealing the idea.
“Tell Montague I know of some men who wouldn’t hold Miss Wilcox’s past against her.” Liverpool shrugged. “As you said, she has no husband to control her. If he wants her married off and out of his hair, have him contact me when he returns from his bridal tour.”
Julius bit back a snarl. That wasn’t going to happen. Amanda wasn’t going to be married off, not to one of Liverpool’s yes-men. And any man who wouldn’t mind her past could hardly be of the quality that she deserved.
He turned to leave, and Liverpool stopped him. “One last thing, Rothchild. You no longer have to search for Mrs. Westmont.”
“You’ve found her?”
“Her body.” Liverpool took a sip of his drink. “She was dragged out of the Thames a week ago. I only received the information today.”
Julius swallowed. He knew how difficult it could be to identify a body pulled from the water. The distortions that took place on soft flesh. The bits the fish took away. He could only guess as to who put her there.
With a nod, he stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. He wanted to slam the whole damn place down. All of London’s clubs were filled with smug men and even smugger servants. Knowing they had life by the balls; not caring how the other half lived. A footman leapt to open the front door before him, and Julius growled. How could a class of men who couldn’t even open their own doors rule the world?
He stopped on the sidewalk, the cold night air burning his lungs as he sucked it down. He raised his face to the skies and wished the light rain pelting his face could rinse the taint of his meeting away. Liverpool was right. He wasn’t a reformer. Julius could see the injustices, but he wasn’t the man trying to change them. If he saw a weaker man being beaten, or a woman being abused, he was only too happy to step in. Bloodying his knuckles, breaking noses, those were the fights he was good at. That he enjoyed. But fighting an entire system …?
He waved his carriage off, not wanting to face the prospect of being cooped up for the ride home. Flipping the collar of his coat up to block out the drizzle, he turned his steps towards Montague’s townhouse, letting the wind and rain cool his anger.
But the loathing didn’t fade. He wasn’t the man to fight the system. But apparently he was the man to block Amanda from her fight. He hated doing it, but Liverpool was right. It was necessary. Change on the scale Amanda wanted would take years, if it ever happened. The threat from the blackmailing ring was immediate. And if they were using Lord Hanford, Julius needed to make sure the man stayed out of the public eye as much as possible.
Amanda’s calling him out by name hadn’t been helpful. Perhaps Hanford wouldn’t have been so quick to take offense if she hadn’t. But she was a reasonable woman, he consoled himself. Eager to help him with his task. She’d understand why she had to stop writing her opinion pieces.
And if Julius believed that, he knew as much about the female mind as Liverpool.